To fear the unknown,
A gentle soul, engulfed in the flames of its own insecurities,
All alone, it craves a delicate touch, a sign, or just a simple smile,
Weakened by the taste of isolation, prohibited from ever reaching the truth, one may become bitter, or filled with unending hate for others.
Why were they allowed the gift, to roam free, to experience love,
Scattered alike moonlight, are the thoughts of such damaged mind,
Nethertheless this dismay shall take over, until nothing remains,
And so, this soul is burnt by its own heart, slowly withering away in the never ending stream of time, softly, gently giving up all hope,
Until that fateful day may come, and another caring soul rescues it,
But, for now, as all sound and colours fade into angst and despair,
It shall rest, in the confinement of the abyss.
Continuously wondering, when the day may come,
Wondering if it will ever feel again.